


Peeping Tom, Shroy Tuvok

by starinvoid (geekns)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Character Study, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-04-14
Updated: 2001-06-02
Packaged: 2018-12-04 06:51:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11549802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekns/pseuds/starinvoid
Summary: After Janeway and Chakotay go on another ill-fated away mission, Chakotay tells Kathryn how he really feels about the way she treats him and acts in front of the crew.  How will Kathryn react?





	1. Tom

**Author's Note:**

> Paramount and Viacom own Star Trek, i don't.  What a bummer.
> 
> My second Voyager series, each part is told from a different crewmember's perspective (senior staff and the usual suspects). Please pardon how un-PC Tom is, i'm not sure why i chose to characterize him that way.

"Oh, hi:  I didn't see you there.  My name's Thomas Paris, but you can call me Tom.  Have a seat.  Come for the show?  I see my fame is spreading.

"Sorry, but so far she's a no-show.  Don't worry, she'll be here.  They're always here.  Wait a sec, the doors are opening... Bingo!  What did I tell you?  Right on cue.

"What?  You haven't heard the story?  Well I've got some time to spare, so I'll tell you.  You see, right over there a certain couple is about to rendezvous at their usual time.  Not just any couple:  that couple.  The couple on _Voyager_ that is most wagered on, the couple that is the most secretive about their true feelings.  One of these day's they're going to make me rich.  If I can ever get them to reciprocate their feelings, that is.

"See that big guy over there?  Yeah, him, the Indian.  Well excuuuussse me: the Native American.  Anyway, every day, Chakotay enters the mess hall at exactly 0701 hours.  He totes his padd to the bar and orders his usual:  oatmeal, orange juice, and occasionally even tries the course of the morning...  I say occasionally as in rarely.  Chakotay is quite a man of habit, truth be told, and he's almost as finicky an eater as I am, but I'm getting away from the story, now, aren't I?

"So, every day, _Voyager_ 's first officer then proceeds to his usual table, sets his tray down, and seats himself, facing so that, ironically enough, were Chakotay able to see through _Voyager_ 's bulkheads, he would see where the ship has already been, instead of where it's going.  Tells you a lot about the man.

"Chakotay sometimes tries to eat a bite or two of his oatmeal.  Then he seemingly decides it's too hot, and proceeds to engross himself in his padd.  This entire ritual lasts approximately six minutes.  Around 0707 _Voyager_ 's captain makes her appearance.  Captain Janeway approaches the bar with gusto and, unlike her counterpart, orders the morning special and her usual:  coffee, black.

"It doesn't seem to matter whether she likes the dish or not (she rarely eats any); Janeway always orders whatever Neelix is serving.  Whether this is to set an example for the crew, to keep Chakotay and the Doctor off her back about her stress levels and not eating three square meals a day and all that other junk, or if she simply does it for Neelix's sake, I have never figured out.  Anyway, back to the Captain.

"After the Captain orders, she then takes her breakfast, turns to seemingly scan the room, and her eyes fall on her second in command.  She approaches with purpose, stops in front of her still (seemingly) oblivious breakfast companion, and states something along the lines of:

"'Is this seat taken?'  Chakotay, in turn, answers with something like:

"'Of course not, Captain:  please, join me.'  The words vary, but the meaning is always the same.

"So, each morning, _Voyager_ 's two senior-most officers spend breakfast together.  As soon as Janeway arrives, Chakotay begins to eat his now cool-enough breakfast, and the conversation begins to get rolling.

"My table has a great view.  Sometimes B'Elanna and Harry join me.  And every once in a while, I meet a lone traveler like you who wants to take a peek.  They're really quite entertaining when you think about it.  Unfortunately, I have no idea what they're saying. The mess hall is simply too loud, and to sit close enough to hear would be to risk discovery.  I'm still working on the problem, though.

"But still, it's fun to watch them together.  These two people are so obviously in love, but they probably wouldn't admit it even if threatened with death.  When it comes to commanding a starship, exploring the unknown, and making first contact with alien cultures, they're fearless.  But when it comes to admitting that they are head over heals in for each other, they're terrified.

"Incidentally, not knowing whether this daily rendezvous is planned on the part of _Voyager_ 's captain and first officer, or just started happening by chance, is still a big question:  one that I haven't been able to answer.  (The pool for that is almost as big as the afore mentioned one.)  So instead, I, Tom Paris, spend each morning watching the drama unfold.

"B'Elanna once asked me if I thought that anyone else knew about their little appointments.  I had to answer yes; I have never seen anyone else sitting at the Captain and Commander's table during breakfast.  That alone has to be more than a coincidence.

"Oh, look:  they're leaving early today.  Pity that I can't follow them:  Janeway would bust me down to crewman or maybe even acting ensign if I were caught.  Oh well, the Doctor will want to have this report before my shift starts on the bridge, so I better get back to work.

"You will excuse me, won't you?  Oh, you have to go?  Well, I hope to see you soon.

"Oh, by the way:  you will tell me if you pick up any little tidbits of information, won't you?  Thanks."


	2. Tom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  For those of you who are wondering about the title, shroy is the Vulcan word for listen, thus, "Shroy Tuvok" roughly means Listening Tuvok. Some other Vulcan words used here are:  
> adun:  life partner(m)  
> aduna:  life partner(f)  
> katra:  soul  
> t'hy'la:  friend, lover, lifelong companion

 

A 'child' once asked me if the shape of my ears assisted their ability to function.  I truthfully replied, "No," and did not pursue his line of questioning.  In hindsight, I am forced to admit that my hearing is greatly superior to that of a human's, and his most likely as well.  It is not, however, superior to that of a Ferengi.  That species is one whose ear is shaped in order to augment their auditory processes. Their hearing not withstanding, my ability is invaluable considering my position aboard _Voyager_.

Today, for instance, I was able to hear Lieutenant Paris as he entered the turbolift five decks below the bridge and stated his destination.  Therefore, I knew three minutes and forty-seven seconds before he greeted me who would be getting off Turbolift One upon its arrival.  Not that it was notably out of character for _Voyager_ 's chief helmsman to be arriving (despite the fact that Mr. Paris is not well known for promptness):  his shift was scheduled to begin in less than ten minutes.  I did note that he was early, however, and found it agreeable that a certain Talaxian had not entered the turbolift as it passed Deck Two.

"Good morning, Tuvok,"

 Mr. Paris' greeting did not follow protocol.  I was prepared to 'let it slide,' however.  Unfortunately, I appear to be spending too much time off duty with the Lieutenant in question.

"Lieutenant."  I continued my work.  Lieutenant Paris, however, was not traversing the distance from Security to the Helm.

"Tuvok, can I talk to you for a second?"

"I am currently occupied completing a comprehensive diagnostic of _Voyager_ 's weapons systems.  It would be unadvisable to delay it any further."

"Yes, well, I was just wondering whether the Captain and Commander are here yet."

"Yes, they are."

A pause.

I set down my padd and as I continue working.

"Well, they aren't on the bridge so..."

"Lieutenant, I am perfectly aware that the Captain and Commander are not on the bridge at this moment.  I am also certain that you know that I have the tendency to discipline disruptive personnel."

"Tuvok, that would take you away from your diagnostic.  Besides, I'm not disrupting anything."

"To use a common human expression, 'I beg to differ.'"  Inwardly, I cringe at my own words.  Mr. Paris only smiles:

"Tuvok, Tuvok, Tuvok:  won't you just tell me where they are?"

"The personnel in question are currently in the Ready Room."

"Now was that so hard?  Why couldn't you just tell me before?"  I pick up my padd again, making a few notes as I answer:

"I did not tell you because you did not ask."  I am almost certain that Lieutenant Paris is assuming that if Vulcans were inclined to smile, I would be smiling at this moment.  This common assumption among the crew is completely, totally, illogical.  It is ludicrous. The Lieutenant leans toward me:

"Can you hear them?"

"Yes, were I to extend my hearing, I would be able to hear them."

"Well, why don't you?"

"That would be illogical."

"Come on, Tuvok:  don't tell me you never have before."

"That is not a question you should be asking a senior officer, Lieutenant."

"I'm not leaving until you answer my question," Tom stated.  "You might as well spill it."  I look up as the turbolift doors open and nod a greeting to Ensign Ayala as he steps onto the bridge.  Paris is still staring at me.

"Very well," I finally reply.  "Since there is apparently no deterring you, I will answer your question...  if you give me your word that you will proceed to your duty station immediately afterwards."

"Deal."

"This information goes no further than this workstation, is that understood, Lieutenant?"

"Scout's honor."  Mr. Paris holds up his hand, forming some strange symbol with his fingers.  I find it odd that he would wish to engage in this activity which compromises his dignity.  Tom drops his hand and leans forward, lowering his voice a little more:  "So, have you?"

"I have, infrequently, 'indulged,' as I believe you put it, yes."

"I knew it!"  A pause.  "Well, why don't you now?"

If Vulcans were prone to sigh, this is the moment that I would insert one.

"Mr. Paris..."

"Come on, Tuvok:  just tell me a little."  I return to my work:

"They are discussing the away mission."

"What about it?"  I lift my chin, staring at the ceiling for a moment, listening.  I return to my work before I answer:

"The Captain wishes to accompany the Commander, and he does not agree with her reasons for doing so.  He believes that the mission is potentially hazardous."

"Is that all?  I could have figured that out."

"Then you will no long be requiring my services, Lieutenant."

"Thanks anyway, Tuvok."

"It was 'nothing.'"

"Hey, you're getting pretty good at that."  Apparently, I am not myself today.

The Lieutenant is still standing next to my console.

"Lieutenant, could you possibly proceed to your station?"

"Well, sure.  Why?"

"Because you have stood here an uncharacteristically extended amount of time and it is time for your duty shift to begin."

"But Tuvok:  you didn't ask."  I watch Lieutenant Paris turn to resume his trek towards the conn with a grin on his face.  
   
   
   
(^  (@) (@)  ^)

   
    
I am uncertain how long I listened before I realized that I was.  Unfortunately, over the years I have began to discover this happening more and more.  I believe that I began to occasionally indulge myself around the time that Mr. Neelix once exited the Captain's Ready Room announcing:

"Jonah?  Whale???"  Quite illogical.  Quite illogical, indeed.

That was quite a long time ago.  There have been many conversations in that room since that day.  I once tried to justify my actions, reasoning that, as _Voyager_ 's Chief of Security, I should have the right to monitor such conversations as I see fit.  However, I soon realized--after the Captain discovered that the Doctor had been monitoring bridge conversations--that Captain Janeway would most definitely be displeased were she ever to find that I listen to some of her private conversations.

Regardless of the fact that logic won out (as always), I still periodically find myself listening.  Of course, each time I do yield, I chastise myself duly and resolve to never do it again.  But then I eventually find it happening again.  It may be the one thing that subconsciously slips through my emotional barriers.

She is winning... the Captain.  I am not surprised.  She usually does win, particularly with the Commander.  He usually has the well being of the crew in mind, and his arguments are actually quite persuasive, but his dilemma is of a human nature.  When one loves another, it is difficult to say no to that person.  The Captain just happens to be the more headstrong of the two.  They both have their battles.

I can not say that I blame him really.  I have found myself in similar situations with my T'hy'la (that is, my wife).  She is my aduna, I am her adun.  It is also sometimes... difficult... with my children.

I believe that one of the reasons I find myself listening more and more is because of the Captain's voice.  Many times I do not listen to what is being said, rather, I listen to her katra, to her soul.  When the Captain is in her Ready Room, she speaks of what her heart feels.  Typically non-Vulcan of her, thus, very illogical.

It may be what draws me to her the most.

She considers me a source of sound counsel, and I, in turn, see her in exactly the same fashion.  She is my window to everything that is not Vulcan.  I find her quite... fascinating.

She has won.  They are now proceeding to the bridge.  I return my full attention to my duties.  Perhaps I will listen another time, but not today.


	3. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   Blissfully short for those of you who hate Seven.  ( ;

I can hear the Captain and the Commander as they prepare to leave the Ready Room.  Mr. Paris seems to be concealing some dialogue that he was reading at his console.  I am uncertain if this means that he was simply done reading the material or if he was involved in activities that will lead to his own amusement.  Something--I believe that it is my intuition beginning to assert itself--tells me that it is the latter option.  I look toward Tuvok:  he has noted Mr. Paris' actions as well.  I push these thoughts into the back of my mind and turn to face the Captain, who is now stopping in the center of the bridge.

Commander Chakotay's face is red and his breathing accelerated.  If the two officers who were entering the room had been Mr. Paris and Ms. Torres, I might be inclined to think that they had been engaged in intimate relations.  However, I know that this is not the case.  I did not need to use my borg implants to hear _Voyager_ 's two highest ranked officers having a very heated argument.  I have also heard numerous crewmen repeat stories of the Captain and Commander fighting throughout the past couple of weeks.  Ever since we left the colony on Planet 9910356742Alpha, which is inhabited by Species 764, they have both been on edge.

I have conjectured that it must have something to do with the last morning we were in orbit:  the morning that Commander Chakotay was late returning from shore leave.  The Captain and I noted his early departure from the banquet with Ambassador Nalawoosha.  I have been studying the Captain for many months now, and that night was the first time that she revealed any behavior that would support my hypothesis.

Her face looked sad as she watched him go:  almost as if she were about to cry.  But of course the Captain would never do this, and her smile was back within moments, before those tears even had a chance to begin.  We left the party early ourselves, and we played many, many rounds of Velocity before I finally asked if I could retire for the evening.  It was the first time that I have ever wished to discontinue participation before she did.

I believe that she loves the Commander.

"The Commander and I will be taking a shuttlecraft to scan the Nar system."  I place my hands behind my back as the Captain begins to speak.  The Captain pauses:  " _Voyager_ will set a course for the Drith system and search for the ore there.  The Commander and I will rendezvous with _Voyager_ in two days.  Are there any questions?"

I note that there aren't:  there rarely is when the Captain is in such a mood.  The Captain turns to Tuvok:  "Commander, you have the bridge," she leads the way to the turbolift, and Chakotay grudgingly steps in behind her.

I am glad that I will not be going on this trip with them.


	4. Chakotay

I look down at the icy planet below us.  We've been in orbit for over two hours, and she still hasn't said a single word.  Any commands that she hasn't been able to relay with motions, she has given to me via padd.  Not a good sign.

"Kathryn," I hesitate:  "this is ludicrous.  You haven't said a word since we left _Voyager_."

She picks up one of her padds and types something into it.  Then she hands it to me and turns her back on me, going back to her work.  I read the padd:

*I'm mad.*

"Well I can see that..."  She hands me another padd:

*And I'm not talking to you.*

"Kathryn..."  She's already shoving another padd into my hands:

*Because you started it.*

I look at the three padds that I'm holding, then back to Kathryn.  She's looking for something...  I smile:

"Looking for these?"  She turns to me in a huff.  If looks could kill...

"Give those back!"

"Oh, _Voyager_ 's mighty captain can still talk!"  I hold the padds out of her reach as she lunges for them:

"I'm warning you, Commander!"

Suddenly, the shuttle is pitching over sideways, dumping Kathryn into my lap.  The computer automatically takes us to red alert, and Kathryn leaps from my arms.  I'm not sure if it's the fact that I was holding her or the current situation that propels her the most.

"Impulse engines are off line!" I report.  "We're falling out of orbit."  Systems were beginning to go offline:  fast.

"We're caught in the planet's gravitational pull," she works frantically at her console.  "There's a storm that's interfering with the shuttle's functions:  switching to auxilliary power."

"Impulse power is coming back on line," I shout.

"Do we have enough power to break free?" she looks to me.  I shake my head:

"It's not enough."  I look back to Kathryn:  "We're going down."  
   
   
   
(^  (@) (@)  ^)

   
   
   
"Kathryn."  It's the first word out of my mouth as I wake.  I pull myself off of the console, forcing my eyes to function in the smokey darkness.  She lies draped across her own console, unconscious.  I kneel beside her, touching her shoulder.  Her eyes flutter open.

She moans, but it doesn't seem to matter to me at this moment:  she's alive.  I move to get the medkit, calmly opening the tricorder:

"How bad is it?" she's obviously in pain.

"You have a couple of cracked ribs and a dislocated shoulder."  I close the tricorder:  "We're both lucky:  no head or spinal injuries."  She's cradeling her injured shoulder:

"Well excuse me if I don't share your enthusiasm, Commander, but I feel far from lucky."  I stand, picking up the medkit:

"Come on."  She follows me farther back into the cockpit.  I sit down on the deck...

"We've crashed on a barren snow planet," she sits down next to me as I open the medkit:  "we don't know if we got the distress call out, and I'm the one who ends up getting injured...  What are you doing?"

"You have to lay down if I'm going to fix your arm."  She stares at me for a moment, the complies.

"You look awfully smug..."

"I'm not smug," I reply.  "Bite down on this," I hold out a hypospray--something the maquis have been using for years in situations like this--but she refuses.  Stubborn, as always.

I sigh, then lean over her and pop her shoulder back in place.  Her cry of pain is worse than I expected.  She tries to pull out of my grasp, but I already have her pinned to the deck--no use in her hurting herself further--and then my eyes meet hers...

Blue eyes that are icy cold, full of anger, but suddenly they change.  A tear rolls down her cheek and she turns her face away, cursing herself inside for the tears that are streaming down her cheeks.  She tries to stop them, in vain.

I relax my grip and move my knee off her stomach.  Then she starts to breathe again; deep, raspy breaths, recovering from having the air knocked out of her.  Then her mouth opens and the three words come out... three words that aren't spoken as a statement, or a request, or a plea, but as one thing alone... as a Captain warning a subordinate:

"You're hurting me."  I pull back:

"You're hurting yourself," the words are laced with anger:  anger that I didn't know that I had within me:  "You just can't let yourself be weak for one moment, can you?"  I retort as I grab the regenerator out of the medkit:  "No, of course not:  you have to be wonder woman.  Get the crew home, Kathryn.  Be invincible, Kathryn.  Shut out everyone who cares about you, Kathryn."

I'm holding her down again, not stopping to think about the words that are tumbling out of my mouth.  Words that are foreign to me; words that I've held within for years, but didn't know were there.  Words that need to be said, but if I were in my right mind would never dream of saying.

Once her shoulder has been healed, I grab for the osteogenic stimulator:  "You know what's wrong with you?  Your problem is that you don't know a good thing even when it's staring you in the face.  You're too concerned with protocol, and rules, and regulations, that you don't even feel anymore.  You're such an automaton that you might as well be a hologram:  or, or an android!" I sputter.

I press on, not thinking anymore, just reacting:  "You hide inside that body of yours and try to make us think that you're invulnerable to it all, that you don't have any emotion, that you don't need any help.  You display less emotion than the Doctor, or Seven, or even Tuvok!  You're not even a woman anymore... and I'm ashamed to call you my captain."

I say this all in the few moments that it takes for me to heal her ribs, and then she immedietely twists from my grasp.  She turns away from me, rolling herself into a fetal position, her body racked with sobs.  "It doesn't have to be this way, Kathryn."  She doesn't answer, so I gently lay my hand on her shoulder.  She pulls away, not allowing me to comfort her.

"I'm still not speaking to you," she gasps between sobs.  I turn away, and she stumbles to her feet, limping to the other side of the shuttle, trying to get as much distance between herself and me as possible.  I stand, taking a step closer to her, but she only pulls back further:  "Stay away from me," she hisses.

I take a step backwards, and suddenly I'm dizzy and feel very sick.  I try to sit down in the chair behind me, but collapse into a heap on the floor instead.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.  I start to cough:  "I'm sorry," I try to force out again, but I'm coughing too hard.  I cough so hard that my throat is raw and then I stop and start to feel sick again.  I wish that I would just puke and get it over with, I feel so sick.  But nothing comes, so I just lie there on the deck, staring at the ceiling and wondering why I said anything at all.  
   
   
   
(^  (@) (@)  ^)

   
   
   
I don't know how long I have laid here.  The temperature has dropped at least ten degrees, and the silence is deafening now that she has finally stopped crying.  I sit up and discover that she's still lying on the deck on the other side of the room.  Maybe she has fallen asleep.  I lift a hand to wipe my cheek and discover that it is wet.  Oh, well:  they aren't the first tears that I have shed for Kathryn, and they most definitely won't be the last.

I climb to my feet, every bone in my body screaming.  I ignore the hollow feeling in my chest and cross the width of this small ship to open a storage locker.  I feel like cursing when I discover that someone has removed the Sub-Zero TempResist Blankets.  All we have left are the thin standard issue ones.

I throw back my head, about to let out a string of expletives, every atom in my being wanting to scream out, to do something to relieve the dull, heavy ache in my chest.  But the words catch in my throat, and I turn away, laughing cynically.  This just isn't my day. I take one of the blankets and drop it onto the deck beside Kathryn.  She tries to pull away from me, so I know that she isn't asleep.

"We only have the two blankets," I announce.  She doesn't answer, so I guess that she's still mad at me.  I don't blame her.

I leave the blanket, walk back to the locker to retrieve one for myself.  I look back:  they're both still lying on the deck, folded and untouched.  I shake my head and wrap my blanket around me, sitting down at the console to begin working on restoring communications in the fading light.

It's going to be cold tonight:  the shuttle is slowly being burried in snow.  Soon we'll be covered completely, blocking out all the light.  I think that I can repair the communications array, but impulse is another story.  I have a feeling that this shuttle is never going to fly again.  
   
   
   
(^  (@) (@)  ^)

   
   
   
I'm almost done repairing the communications systems.  Hopefully I'll be able to make a subspace call really quick.  I blow on my fingers for the hundredth time.  It's starting to get really cold in here.  Frost is forming on the console and the snow is almost all the way up to the top of the shuttle now:  it only has a few more inches to go.

I turn to look at Kathryn.  She rolled up in a ball over there.  Still hasn't touched the blanket.  I shake my head:

"You should use that blanket, Captain."  I hear a sniffle:

"I do not have to take orders from you, Commander..."  She emphasizes each syllable.  "Mind your own business."  She rolls over so she's facing the hatch.

I sigh and get up to grab a beacon.  It's almost dark.  
   
   
   
(^  (@) (@)  ^)

   
   
   
I jump awake.  Fumbling with my beacon.  The battery's dead:  probably frozen, it's so cold in here.  Great:  just great.  Just what we need.  I can't believe I fell asleep with it on.

I've been struggling to stay awake for what seems like hours.  I have no way to know.  Main power went offline when I tried to activate the distress call, and I've been trying to remain conscious ever since.

I wonder what woke me up.  If I had fallen asleep I might have died before help arrived.  The only way to know for sure that I'm all right now is to stay awake and try to keep as warm as possible.  Which isn't very easy when the person you're stranded with won't let you touch them so you can conserve body heat together. At least I have the blanket.

"Chakotay."  Kathryn's voice...  She sounds weak.  I wonder if she called my name before and that is why I awoke.

Before I can think, I jump from my seat and stumble toward her in the darkness.  Boy, is it cold...  Brrr...  I hop up and down a couple of times and then drop to my knees, feeling for her in the darkness.  I don't want to step on her.

"What is it, Kathryn?" I ask.  Hearing her voice again would help me find her.

"Cold," I can hear her chatter.  "So cold."

I finally find her ankle, wrapped in the blanket.  I guess she can follow orders after all.  I pull her up into a sitting position and rub my arms up and down hers, trying to generate heat.  "I was worried about you," she whispers as I move closer to her and pull her into my arms.

"Shh..." I try to get her to stop talking, but she wasn't deterred:

"I could hear you snoring...  thought I might lose you."

"I don't snore."

"Yes:  you do."  I could hear her smile, but then her voice lost all humor:  "I remember on New Earth:  lying awake at night, listening to the gentle rasp of your breathing, always there to lull me to sleep.  I couldn't sleep for weeks after _Voyager_ came for us, I missed it so much."  She paused:  "Your presence made me feel safe."

"Shh, you shouldn't talk."

"No, Chakotay you were right:  you were right about all of it.  About the blanket, about me not knowing when to stop.  About me not feeling anymore, not being a woman," her voice caught in her throat.  I shook my head:

"I didn't know what I was saying."  I could feel her breath on my cheek as she tilted her head up as if to look at me:

"You knew exactly what you were saying.  You never wanted to tell me, but you knew... You know me better than anyone else."

"Kathryn, why are you telling me this?"

"Because it's my last chance," her voice sounded labored and far away.

"What do you mean?" I asked, dreading the answer that, deep down, I knew she was about to give.  But no answer came.  "Kathryn?"  I repeated.  There was no reply.  I could feel her head lower heavily onto my shoulder as I shook her, screaming inside for her to wake up.  "Kathryn!" my voice finally pulled her back to me, to the world around us.  "You have to stay awake," I pulled her closer to my chest.

"Chakotay..."

"Kathryn, you need to stay awake until _Voyager_ beams us to sickbay."  She shook her head, as if to say:  _No,_ Voyager _isn't coming_.  But I wouldn't let her give up like that.  "You hear me?  You have to stay awake!"  I could feel her drifting away, slowly leaving me.

A million thoughts rushed through my mind at that moment.  The very first time I ever saw her.  Each agonizing, heart-wrenching mission where I wondered if I would ever get her back.  Her voice when someone had the audacity to threaten her.  Her excitement while she marched across numerous alien vistas, savoring every footstep of her journey on each of too many unamed planets that were already thousands of lightyears away.  The starlight reflecting the red-blonde highlights in her hair during a late meeting in her ready room, each distant sun reflecting in her blue eyes.

The smell of coffee on her laugh.  Our trips to the holodeck.  The way she would get lost in the music while we were eating dinner in her quarters, and would close her eyes oblivious to my gaze.  The smell of her hair and the feel of her skin beneath my fingers.  Every gentle touch that would light up my day.  Every heartbeat that had skipped when she gave me that half-smile.

"Chakotay..."

It was as if I was the one dying instead of her.

"...I love you."

And that was it.  She simply exhaled her dying confession and breathed no more.  I love you.  That's what she had said.  I love you.

I never told her.


	5. Doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relax!  You didn't actually think that i'd kill our fearless Captain, did you? I had no idea who George R.R. Martin even was when i wrote this.

"Welcome back, Commander," I smile down at Commander Chakotay as he regains consciousness.  Moments later, he's already halfway out of the bed.  I'm forced to hold him down so that he won't injure himself.

"Where's Kathryn?" he demands.  "I have to see her!"

"Calm down, Commander," I reply calmly.  "The Captain is fine."  _Voyager_ 's first officer stops struggling.

"She's alright?" he asks, as if he doesn't dare believe it, his voice still filled with worry.

"She's going to make a full recovery," I assure him.  "You've both cheated death once again:  with a little help from me, of course."  I watch the Commander allow himself to fall back into the biobed, still fatigued after his injuries.

"How is she?" he asks.  "Can I see her?"

"She's still unconscious," I retrieve the nearest medical tricorder, open the familiar device and began scanning him:  "You're free to go, provided that you remain off duty until tomorrow."  Chakotay nods his understanding.  I close the tricorder, watch him as he slowly sits back up:  "You've both had quite a shock, Commander.  I'd recommend that you sleep if at all possible.  And no boxing or hoverball for a few days:  just to be on the safe side."

"Understood," he slides his feet over the edge of the biobed:  "You'll inform me when she wakes up?"

"Of course, Commander," I agree.  I turn to return to my office, but Chakotay stops me:

"Doctor..."  I turn around to face him again, and he walks toward me, a bit unsteady on his feet still, but easily enough.  "Thank you."

I watch Chakotay turn and leave, leaving me wondering what has brought about this turn of events.  The crew rarely thanks me for saving their lives.  Oh well:  might as well enjoy it while I can.  Tomorrow will probably bring me more ungrateful patients.  
   
   
   
(^  (@) (@)  ^)

   
   
   
The computer alerted me when she started to regain consciousness, so I called the Commander and was already scanning the Captain before her eyes fluttered open.  She grimaced at the bright overhead light, then blinked a few times, allowing her vision to adjust.  I closed my tricorder, smiling.

"Glad to see that you're awake, Captain."  It takes her a moment to focus on my face:  she's still a bit groggy.

"How long?" she manages to get out.

"About twelve hours," I reply.  "You're very lucky:  _Voyager_ arrived just in time."  She nodded solemnly, but didn't seem surprised, at least not outwardly:  who knows what's going on inside her head?  Captain Janeway is an expert at hiding her emotions as she sees fit.

"The Commander?" she asks.

"I've already released him," I close the tricorder.  "He's on his way here as we speak."  I turn to return my tricorder to the instrument tray.  When I turn back, I'm surprised to find that she has already sat up.  "Captain!"  She holds up a hand:

"I'm alright," she replies.

"No you're not!  You're in no condition to be up and about."

"I'd like to go to my quarters, Doctor," she actually slides her legs off the biobed, but is forced to pause, to catch her breath.  She sways, probably dizzy from her efforts.

"Absolutely not, it's out of the question," I reply, arms outstretched, making sure that she doesn't fall headfirst to the floor.  "You need to remain here for rest and observation for at least another sixteen hours."

"I can rest in my quarters," she replies, lifts her head.

"You should listen to him, Captain."  We both turn at Commander Chakotay's voice, neither of us having noticed his arrival.  He solemnly approaches, crossing his arms across the putrid leather vest that he's so fond of wearing off duty.  The color doesn't suit him, and it took me a moment to realize that its brown hue was why he looked so pale.

I turn back to the Captain, who seems to be contemplating her first officer's words.  She turns back to me:

"I'll stay here until 2000 hours, Doctor," she informs me.  "After that, you are to release me..."

"To quarters," I finish for her.  "And you aren't going to be on duty tomorrow, either."

"There's no reason that I can't go on light duty..."

"No, Captain," I insist.  "When I say that you aren't to go on duty, I mean that you aren't going to be on duty.  If you resist, then I will be forced to sedate you.  I'm already risking your health as it is."  She sighs:

"Fine," she finally relents.  "No duty it is."  I nod:

"That's a wise decision, Captain," I note.  "I'll be over here if you need me."  I turn on my heel, ignoring what I've often heard certain crewmembers refer to as the death glare, and resume my work at the console across the room, my back to the two officers.

"You feeling alright?" I can't help but hear the Commander ask the Captain.  I can hear her shifting her weight on the biobed, pulling the blanket back over herself.

"Good enough to know that I don't need to be off duty for another thirty-six hours," she notes sourly.

"Do you want to talk?" Chakotay asks.

"About?"

"About what happened in the shuttle."  There's a long pause:

"Commander," the Captain states evenly.  "As far as I'm concerned, our last conversation never happened."  I can hear the edge in her voice, feel the ice to it that is so frigid that whatever she's talking about, she's just pierced the Commander's heart.  The entire room is suddenly quiet enough for someone to hear a pin drop.  "Now if you'll excuse me," she continues.  "I need to get some rest."

I turn and see her roll over, turning so that her back is to the Commander, and for one long horrible moment the room is silent.  Chakotay turns, and I watch him leave the room without another word.  I think that I know what was said on that shuttle, and I find my mind wandering:  I can see Seven's face before my own when I close my eyes.  I have to wonder if, had it been me and her in that shuttle, if she would have said the same, if she would have denied it when we got back to _Voyager_.  I think that I know how Chakotay feels.


	6. Harry

"No, absolutely not!"

"Come on, Harry."

"I don't care what you say, I'm not helping you hack into surveillance," I lean forward, lowering my voice.  "You want to get us both thrown into the brig?"

"Of course not," my best friend replies.  "But after their latest brush with death, they'd be fools not to finally precipitate the relationship."

"In the ready room?" I shake my head.  "Paris, you are sick."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."  Tom points his fork at me:  "Besides, they've got..." he pauses, searching for a word... "feelings," he finally manages, "just like the rest of us."

"Of course they do," I tell him.  "But that doesn't mean that it's any of our business!"

I push my empty plate away from myself, suddenly wishing that I hadn't eaten those eggs.  Truth be told, thinking about the Captain and Commander that way is just a little bit too much like thinking about my parents sleeping together.  "Speaking of which, where are the Captain and Commander?" I ask, hoping to change the subject to something a little less disconcerting.

"I don't know," Tom scans the room, his gaze passing by their empty table to the doors.  He glances at the bar, and then back to me:  "Maybe they're having breakfast in bed."  I groan.  "Sure you don't want to help me, Harry?" he asks, back on the original subject.  "Tell you what, I'll split the winnings with you, fifty-fifty."  I shake my head:

"Unlike some people," I reply, "I don't have any extra pips, and I'm not about to let Tuvok throw me in the brig."  Tom shakes his head, smiling:

"Your loss," he shrugs.  
   
   
   
(^  (@) (@)  ^)

   
   
   
I solemnly follow Tom into the turbolift, ignoring his babbling about how he plans to get past Tuvok's security subroutines.

"Deck one," I state our destination.  Moments later, we're stepping onto the bridge.  I almost run into Tom as he stops short, and then he steps out of the way, and I see the Commander sitting in the Captain's chair.  That's never a good sign:  he always sits in his own chair, even when she isn't on the bridge.  Tom turns to me, lifts his eyebrows, and then turns to go to the conn.

"Good morning, Commander," Tom cheerfully greets _Voyager_ 's first officer as he passes him to take his post.  "And how are we this fine morning?" Tom seats himself.

"Alive," the Commander states without too much enthusiasm.  "Mr. Kim, has the wreckage been beamed aboard?"

"Yes, sir," I reply from my own post.  "B'Elanna's rebuilding the shuttle as we speak."

"Excellent," he replies.  "Lieutenant, set a course for the Drith system, warp six."

"Yes, sir," Tom enters the commands.  "Speaking of shuttles, Chakotay, how's the Captain,?"  Paris turns to see the reaction on the Commander's face.

"I wouldn't know," Chakotay replied, his eyes not lifting from the console at his side.  "You're the one who works in Sickbay, aren't you?  Engage."  Paris got the hint and turned back to his console.  Apparently, the Captain and Commander still hadn't resolved their differences.  It looked like it was going to be a long shift.  
   
   
   
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There isn't much to do at Ops while you're at warp.  Oh, sometimes you see a passing starship or a nebula along the way, but there isn't much scanning to do basically.  That comes when we're out of warp, when we're moving into orbit or intercepting a starship.  Seven scans the starsystems that are ahead, so all that I can do is make sure that _Voyager_ 's systems are working and be awake when the Captain needs me...  Or Commander, as the case is at the moment.

He hasn't moved in the past hour.  He's just sitting there, staring at the viewscreen, a scowl plastered on his face.  There's actually steam rising off of him, I swear.  The bridge has become very, very silent.

Tom is working on his project.  He's delusional if he thinks that he isn't going to be caught.  And spying on the Captain isn't the best way to get on her good side.  I wonder what the Captain did to put the Commander in such a bad mood.  It must have been pretty bad, whatever it was.  Chakotay's usually a pretty easy-going kind of guy.

Suddenly, _Voyager_ 's first officer is out of the big chair and on his feet:

"I'm going down to get a report on the shuttle's progress," he states.  I look up from my diagnostic, fully aware that there's absolutely no reason that the Commander would need to go to the shuttle bay.  He can just as easily use the comm line for a report, and if we need a shuttle we can always use the Flyer or one of the other older models.   Of course, I'm not about to say this, not while he's in his present mood.  "You have the bridge, Tuvok," Chakotay says as he passes Tactical.  The Commander is in the turbolift before the Vulcan can reply.

Whatever his problem is, I hope that B'Elanna can help him.  I'd hate to see what kind of mood the Captain's in right now.


	7. B'Elanna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pregnant Torres is a bit cranky and bossy.

"Carey!" I yell.  "Where's that hydrospanner?  And why haven't they brought the new warp coils up?"

"They're on their way," my section's equivalent to a first officer calls back.  "And here:  catch..."  I stick my head out from under the console just long enough to catch the hydrospanner, then notice Chakotay, who's standing there, looking like a lost puppy.

"What do you want, Chakotay?" I ask abruptly.  I'm not in such a great mood:  he's got a lot of nerve coming down here, seeing as he's the one who crashed the shuttle.

"How's it coming?" he squats down near my feet so I can see his face, even from my position on my back.

"Oh, swell," I answer, wiping the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand.  "We'll should be able to get her back together about a week before _Voyager_ gets home... Vorik!"

"Yes, Lieutenant?" the Vulcan approaches calmly.  He's probably the only one who isn't sweating in the entire shuttlebay.

"Check the environmental controls."

"I did per your orders ten minutes ago.  They are operating within optimum levels."

"Well, turn up the cold air anyway," I shoot back.  "The shuttlebay's not exactly made to hold ten sweaty engineers at a comfortable temperature, let alone twenty."

"As you wish, Lieutenant."  Vorik turns to go, and Chakotay helps me to my feet:

"Does Tom know that you're lying under a console?" he asks.  I bite back the expletive that wants to shoot out of my mouth.  I'm starting to sound like more like my mother every day:

"No, and you'd better not tell him.  He'll tell the Doctor and I'll never get either of them off my back," I type a few commands into the console I just repaired, then turn toward the shuttle's only exit:  "Nicoletti!"  I watch the young woman sprint through the hatch:

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I've got the sensor array back up," I inform her.  "Go through the diagnostics and send the files from the away mission to Harry.  The Captain's going to want to know why this shuttle crashed."

"Understood."  I push past Susan and into the Shuttlebay, where most of my crew is working.  Chakotay is practically stepping on my heals:

"Do you have a reason for coming down here or are you trying to get in the way?" I ask, stopping at a console, noting our progress in my log.

"I thought that I'd come down and stand over your shoulder since the Captain's unavailable," he noted.  If I didn't know him any better, I would have thought that he was completely serious.  I snort in reply.  He continues:  "Actually, I was hoping that we could have lunch together.  You free?"

"Not really," he follows me to the nacelle, where I kneel to check Carey's work.  I nod, then stand and move on:  "But I promised Tom that I'd get three square meals a day.  I guess that I could fit you in."  I turned to face my oldest friend (that is, the friend that I've had the longest):  "Let me take a shower, and I'll meet you in the mess hall in fifteen minutes."  Chakotay nods:

"Alright:  I'll see you then."  
   
   
   
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"Now," I state as I drop my plate onto the table:  "what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?"  Chakotay opens his mouth to answer, then closes it.

"On second thought," he mumbles.  "Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

"Oh no you don't!" I grab his wrist before he can stand and leave.  "You dragged me up here, and you're not leaving until you talk to me."  He sits down looking beaten, and I let go of his wrist.  "What did she do this time?"

"She took it back," he replied.  "She finally admitted that she loved me, and then she took it back."

"You're kidding?"

"No," he shakes his head.  "She acted like it never happened."

"Are you sure that she remembers?" I ask.  "I mean, she was injured pretty badly..."

"She knows," he replies.  I sit back, allow my hand to lie over swollen stomach, over my baby girl.  She's doing somersaults.

"I'm sorry."  It's all that I can say.

"But it's more than that," he tells me.  "I got mad at her, exploded everything that I've been carrying around for the past couple of years."

"What did she say?" I ask.  He shrugs:

"At first she wouldn't even talk to me, but later she told me that I was right.  That's when she told me that she loves me."  I shake my head, amazed:

"Sounds to me like she's scared," I tell him.

"What?" he asks, incredulous.

"She's scared," I reply matter-of-factly.  "I pushed Tom away for so long, when all I really wanted was for him to love me as much as I loved him."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No," I shake my head.  "Did you tell her that you love her?"

"I didn't have the chance."  I sigh, wondering how someone so smart could act so stupid:

"She's been alone for a long time, Chakotay," I tell him.  "She doesn't know how you feel, that you're going to love her back.  She can't afford to let her guard down and then find out that you just wanted a one-night-stand like the ones you had with Kellin, with that Frasier woman..."

"Now that's not fair..."

"Isn't it?" I ask.  "Underneath her tough exterior, there's a scared woman inside."  I pause, remembering how I felt when Tom was the one pursuing me:  "If she lets you in, she could be setting herself up for a lot more pain than she's already known.  What's she supposed to do if you break her heart?  She can't exactly transfer you to another ship..." I pause.  "That may not be a chance that she's willing to take."

Chakotay sighs.  I can see that he's kicking himself for not understanding sooner.  He leans forward:

"What do I do?"

"I don't know," I reply.  "That's a choice that you have to make."  I pause to take a bite:  "The way I see it, you have two choices...  You can give up, or you can tell her how you feel and leave it up to her."  Chakotay nods solemnly.  "But she might not be ready:  you might end up pushing her even farther away.  That's just a chance that you're going to have to take."  I notice that Tom has entered the room, is approaching us.  Chakotay sees him too:

"Thanks, B'Elanna," he stands.  "You've given me a lot to think about.  I'll see you later."  Chakotay walks past Tom, not even acknowledging the younger man.  Tom watches him leave.

"What's with him?" my husband asks, sitting down across from me.  I smile:

"He just needed to talk," I answer cryptically.

"About what?"

"That's none of your business," I shoot back.  He pulls back a little, but I reach across the table, taking his hand.  He suddenly realizes that I'm just teasing, and leans forward again:  "Let's just say that a lot of replicator rations are about to be changing hands."  Tom grins.


	8. Neelix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mm... smell those pancakes!

_Star Trek Voyager_  


_Voyager_ 's rumor mill has been running overtime since the return of Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay, so it doesn't surprise me that the mess hall is pretty near packed today.  Reports of _Voyager_ 's captain and first officer being absent the day before have pushed the crew's morale levels nearly to a crisis, and what happens in the next half hour will effect their performance for the rest of the day, if not the rest of the week.  Unfortunately, there's little that I can do at this point besides do my best to provide the crew with a tasty meal and prepare to initiate damage control should certain events cause morale to take a turn for the worst.

It's 0658, and it's been quite a rush keeping everybody served.  There usually isn't such a large breakfast turnout until later in the week, when replicator rations are lower.  Today, though, they're certainly keeping me on my toes.  The only table that isn't taken is the one that everyone's here to watch.

The doors on my left are opening, admitting yet another customer.  Even though I'm busy, I always take the time to greet each crewmember and ask them about their day so far.  It's amazing how much a person will cheer up if you're actually happy to see them and care about their problems enough to listen, if even for a few seconds.  I look up to see who is next on my 'people to greet' list.

"Ah, Commander!" I smile:  "Good morning!  What can I get you today?  Pancakes?  Eggs?"

"Just my usual, Neelix," he smiles back.

"Oatmeal it is," I disappear for a moment to retrieve his bowl, taking the time to arrange his utensils just so and sprinkle a little cinnamon on top.  Commander Chakotay's morale is just as important to me as any other crewmember's, and I want him to be happy today.  Something which doesn't seem to be a problem, I mentally note as I come back out of my kitchen:  he's actually whistling.  I set the tray before the Commander:  "There you go.  Enjoy!"

"Thanks, Neelix."  The Commander takes his breakfast, greeting several crewmembers as he goes to take his seat.  I smile at the crew resumes their conversations with renewed vigor, then sigh, placing my hands on my aproned chest, turning my mind on what needs to be done next.

The Captain will be here soon.  I set a clean tray on the counter, then retrieve the flower and vase that I've already selected.  I adjust it just so, then pick up the napkin and utensils, glancing at the chronometer as I set them out.  She should be arriving right about now.  I turn to watch the door.

Five minutes later, I'm still watching.  She's never been late before.  Her pancakes are going to get cold.  What if she's not coming?  I glance at the rest of the room, suddenly aware that they're all watching the door, too.  Tom and Harry are conversing quietly, and B'Elanna is watching Chakotay solemnly.  The Commander seems to be frozen, just sitting there, staring at the door.  He isn't smiling anymore, and I can see that he wasn't expecting this.

I hear the door.  Everyone is immedietely talking again, as if there had never been a moment's silence.  Only the Commander blatantly watches the Captain as she crosses the room, coming toward me.  I can see that she's aware of his stare but is ignoring it.  I glance at the chronometer:  0715.  This has never ever happened before, and it's already thrown me off.  I can already see that I'm going to have at least a minor situation on my hands because of her tardiness.  I turn my full attention to the Captain:

"Good morning, Captain," I greet:  not too quietly, not too cheerfully.  The last thing I want to do today is get on her nerves.  Unlike any other crewmember--even the rest of the senior staff--her mood affects how the ship will be run on any given day.  Everyone takes their cue from her, and if she's unhappy, the chances are the entire ship's complement will be too, from the Commander right down to Naomi.  The Captain is very quiet today:  it takes her a moment to answer my greeting.

"Neelix," she finally replies.  The smile on my face is frozen, but at the moment that can't be helped.  Suddenly it feels as if the eyes of every person in the room are on me.  I swallow:

"What can I get you?" I ask.  "The special?  Today we're..."

"Oatmeal," she cuts me off.  My mouth falls open:

"Oatmeal?" I manage.  In over six years she has never ordered any type of hot cereal whatsoever.

"Yes," she replies quietly, hands folded in front of her on the counter.   "And some orange juice."  I blink a few times:

"Yes, ma'am."  I'm already hurrying into the kitchen, hustling to find a bowl and prepare her breakfast.  Moments later, I'm standing before her again, placing the bowl on the tray that has been waiting for her.  I lift the tray from the counter to the bar, placing it in front of her.  "I hope that plain is okay," I study her face.  "We're out of the flavored varieties, and I haven't had the chance to replicate more."

Her eyes don't meet my own as she solemnly places the spoon in the bowl.  She takes the napkin in her hand, then picks up the hot bowl of oatmeal, using the fabric to shield her soft palm from the heat.  She takes the glass of juice in her other hand, turns to face the rest of the room without another word.  Luckily, they all were aware of her enough to turn away before she caught them staring.

She slowly walks across the room, in no way resembling the captain that we usually see, the one with the brisk, measured stride.  She passes Chakotay without so much as a glance, then seats herself in the only chair available at the large table crewmen usually sit at. I stand there for a long, horrible moment, staring with every other person in the room:  every person except one.

Chakotay stands, dropping his napkin onto his tray, and leaves, not even glancing at the person who just shunned him.  B'Elanna stands as well, follows him.  The Captain doesn't move, only stares at her bowl, slowly stirring her hot breakfast, then lifts a spoonful to her mouth.  I close my mouth finally, and examine each crewmember's expression, wondering how there could suddenly be so much silence.

No one says a word.  Only the Captain is eating.  Everyone in the room is shocked.  Lieutenant Torres comes back in, sits down next to her husband again.  How could this have happened?  What just happened?

As I stand there, I'm not even aware of the scent of burning eggs, of the fact that a nearby pot is boiling over.  I'm as shocked as the rest of them.  Morale hasn't only been lowered, it's been demolished.  And as I stand there, wondering what I should do next, what I can do, there's only one thing that I really am aware of...

This is not good.


	9. Kathryn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I've always wanted to write this scene:  now i finally have the chance!" I feel i was slightly exaggerating when i wrote that note.

_Star Trek Voyager_  


Today it's him who is giving the silent treatment.  It was me, not so long ago...  Has it only been three days?  It seems like it's been an eternity.  We sit side by side, frozen, both staring at the viewscreen, only speaking when absolutely necessary.  I'm keenly aware of the silence:  even the crewmen and ensigns aren't gossiping as is their wont.  It's as if someone has died and they're all in mourning.  What could have caused this?

I cross my legs, adjusting my position just enough for me to watch Chakotay without actually looking at him.  His face is expressionless, but I can see the tension playing across his features.  He would know of course, but I also know that my own actions are what caused his silence.  I don't want to be the one to break that silence.  But this is my crew:  if something is wrong I need to know so that I can find a solution.  Discussing the crew's unease seems to be necessary to that end.

"Chakotay:"  I've turned towards him, leaning closer.

"Yes, Captain?" he asks quietly, voice strained.

"I couldn't help but notice that the crew seems to be a bit... subdued... this morning."  I try to judge his reaction, but he remains silent.  "I know that you're closer to the crew than I am," I finally continue.  "I was wondering if you have any insight on the subject."

He finally turns to look at me, and I pull back a little.  Our eyes lock, and he stares at me for a long moment.  I don't know what he's thinking or feeling:  he's never done this before.  He turns away, still silent.

"Of course," he replies at last.

"Of course you want to talk about it or of course you know?" I ask, a bit perturbed.

"Both," he's staring straight ahead, though I don't know why.  There's absolutely nothing going on up there:  why can't he just look at me and carry on a normal conversation?

"Oh," I finally manage.  I don't know what else to say.  He turns back to me, and we stare at each other for a few more moments.  Then he finally seems to realize that I'm not going to say anything further:

"Permission to speak to the Captain privately," he ventures.  At first I don't understand, but then he glances toward the conn, and I suddenly realize that he wasn't looking at the viewscreen, but was judging Paris' reaction to our conversation.  I glance back toward Ops, and catch Mr. Kim watching us; he quickly turns back to his console and tries to look busy.  I look back to Chakotay:

"Granted."  
   
   
   
(^  (@) (@)  ^)

   
   
   
I step into my ready room, Chakotay at my heels.

"Can I get you anything?" I ask, already approaching the replicator.  I turn to face him:

"No, nothing," he replies, hands behind his back.  I turn back to the console:

"Coffee, black," I order.  The cup shimmers into existence and I pick it up.  "Have a seat," I offer before taking a sip of the hot beverage.

"I prefer to stand," he replies, looking first at the empty chair and then back to me.  "You said that you wanted to discuss the crew."  I lower my cup, place a hand on my hip:

"Yes," I pause:  "Considering our narrow brush with death, I expected morale to be high, but instead it's at an all time low."  I take another sip of my coffee, then move across the room toward my desk.  Chakotay's gaze follows me as he replies:

"I don't think that the crew's reaction is strange, only your perception of it."  I've just reached my desk, and turn to face him:

"What does that mean?"

"I saw the crew before you did this morning," he replies.  "Morale seemed to be fine."  I sit down on the edge of my desk:

"So what caused it to change?"  Chakotay sighs, taking a step forward and placing his hands on the back of the empty chair that's between us.  I can see that he's stalling.  Finally, he lifts his head to reply:

"You did."

"I did?" I set my cup down.  "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You ignored me this morning in the mess hall," he answers matter-of-factly.  I lift an eyebrow, shaking my head:

"I can understand why you would be mad at me, Chakotay, but what does that have to do with the crew?"  Chakotay laughs, but there isn't any humor behind it.  He stops when he sees my confusion:

"You really don't realize, do you?" he asks, incredulous.  I cross my arms:

"What?"

"How the crew watches us."

"Of course they do, Chakotay," I lift my hands.  "We're the two highest ranking officers on _Voyager_."  I cross my arms again.

"True, but that's not what I meant."  I watch him as he steps around the chair, weighing his words carefully.  "They watch us wherever we go, whether we're on duty or not.  They know when we have dinner in your quarters...  They see us together on the holodeck.  They even notice when we spend shore leave together."

"I don't see what you're getting at," I return carefully.  Chakotay takes a step closer:

"The mess hall was full of people today," he notes.

"The crew has to eat breakfast," I shake my head:  he's still not making any sense.  He looks at the floor for a moment, shaking his head, lifting a hand to pull on his ear.  He lifts his head, his gaze meeting my own:

"That's not why they were there," he tells me.  I suddenly realize what he's trying to say, am stunned by it, but he's already stating the very thing I want to deny:  "They were there to watch us, Kathryn."

"You can't be serious..." I stand, pacing.  "You think that after all this time the crew still thinks that we should have that kind of a relationship?"  I turn to face him:  "That's insane!"

"Is it?" he asks calmly.

"Don't flatter yourself," I retort, angry that he'd say any of this, that he's so calm about it, as if it were true.  "After all these years, the crew could care less..."

"You're wrong, Kathryn," he cuts me off, closing the distance between us:  "The crew cares about our happiness.  They don't just want us to be happy, they want us to be happy together.  Just because you've been fighting it all this time doesn't mean that they are."  I hit my communicator, turning away from him, moving back toward my desk:

"Janeway to Tuvok."

"Tuvok here."

"Inform the crew that I will be making an announcement in five minutes."

"Acknowledged, Captain."

"Janeway out," I hit my communicator again.

"What are you doing?" the first officer asks.  I turn to face him, glaring at him.

"I'm putting an end to this, once an for all..."

"All hands: this is Lieutenant Commander Tuvok," the Vulcan's comm voice interrupts.  I fall silent as Tuvok continues: "The Captain will be making an announcement in five minutes:  stand ready.  Bridge out."

I only glanced away for a moment, but it was long enough.  I turn back to the first officer and I can see it in his eyes.  Suddenly his expression is no longer one of disbelief:  it's changed to something much more dangerous.  I step back, desperately needing to get away, but my desk is there, causing me to lose my balance.  My knees give out, and suddenly I'm sitting on the edge of it once more.  I desperately want to run, but he's already standing before me, preventing any escape:

"What do you think you're doing?" I demand, but I already know. I've never seen this in his eyes, but I've seen it in other men's, and seeing it in the first officer's terrifies me.

I pull back, but there's no escape.  He leans down, closing the distance between us.  And suddenly I'm too stunned to think about anything but Chakotay's lips on my own.  Those incredible lips that I've daydreamed about way too many times.  I expected his mouth to demand mine, but it doesn't; it caresses mine gently, not forcing itself upon me.  Every millimeter of my skin is on fire, and I am lost.  I find myself kissing Chakotay back.

I slap the first officer.  He pulls back, stunned, and I dash past him, taking advantage of my first opportunity to escape.  My chest heaves, and I gasp for air, trying to force myself to forget how good...  I can't believe how good...

But I can't, I mustn't.  Chakotay turns to face me, and I slowly back away from him, my eyes locked on his lips.  Oh, those lips...  Stop it, Kathryn, you're a Starfleet captain, not some lovesick cadet.  I have to stop this; this can't be happening to me.  I need to get myself under control; I need to get this situation back under control.  I swallow, hope that my voice won't betray me as soon as I open my mouth:

"Janeway to Tuvok..."

"I love you, Kathryn," Chakotay cuts me off.

"You are out of line," I state icily, still facing him.  I'm not about turn my back on him now.

"Why, because it's the truth?  I almost let you die without telling you, but I'm not going to make that mistake again.  I love you."

"How dare you."  The first officer is approaching me again.  I want to flee, to get as far away from him as possible, but I'm frozen.  All I can manage is to stumble backwards, but once again I'm trapped.  All that my back finds is a wall, and he still comes closer, not stopping until we are face to face, our bodies only centimeters apart.  "Let me go," I order him, Captain's voice and all, but he only shakes his head:

"I'm never letting you go again," he leans down to kiss me again.  I push him away, lift my hand to slap him again, but he catches my wrist. "Did you hear me, Kathryn Janeway?" the first officer asks me.  He pauses, his eyes searching my own: "I love you."

I know what is going to happen next, fight it, try to push him away again, but his body is already firmly pressed against mine, pinning me to the bulkhead.  His lips claim mine again, and I place my hands on his chest, desperately trying to push him away.  His tongue pushes itself into my mouth, and I am stunned.  It temporarily paralyzes me, but then I begin to fight him with a renewed urgency, desperately struggling to get away.

But I can't.  Despite every attempt, there's no way that I will ever escape his strong arms.  He has lifted me off the floor, pinned me so that I can't even run or kick myself free, and all the while his mouth is working its magic.  His tongue dueling with mine, his lips gently yet firmly pressed against my own, forcing my objections to be silenced.

Suddenly, the battle is not without, but within. I've never been kissed like this before, and it's intoxicating.  I know that I shouldn't be letting him kiss me, know that he should be court martialed for this, but I'm spinning out of control.  I stop struggling and relax, allowing him to hold me.  My hands drop to my sides, and I press my hands against the wall, fingers spread, not wanting him to know that he's won but desperately wanting to be able to hold onto something.  I'm running out oxygen, I feel dizzy, but I don't want him to ever stop.

Chakotay pulls away, allowing me to gasp for air.  Our chests heave in unison, and I allow my head to fall back, eyes closed.  We are both silent for what seems like forever, but in reality is only a matter of seconds.  He lowers my feet to the ground, and I lift my head, open my eyes.  I can see the regret in his face; he hadn't meant to go so far, and I know that he's about to pull away.  I can't let that happen.

I slide my hand around the back of his neck, pulling his lips back to mine.  This time I kiss him, allowing myself to drink of him fully, trying to give him a little of what he's given me.  He comes willingly, and we cling to each other at last, allowing each other these few moments of bliss.  At last I gently pull away, allowing myself to run my thumb across his lower lip.  His eyes meet mine, and I can see that he's surprised yet overjoyed all at once.  We're both drained of passion yet overflowing with more than I knew was possible.  I struggle to find my voice:

"I love you, Chakotay."  My voice is barely above a whisper, so soft that I'm not sure that he heard me.  I take a deep breath, then lift my voice again:  "I love you."  He backs up a little, giving me room to move away from the wall, to leave if I want to, but I go with him.  I'm never going to let him go again.

"Captain," Tuvok's comm voice startles me.  The blood drains from Chakotay's face, and we both stand in silence for several long seconds.

"Yes, Tuvok?" I finally ask.

"Your communication has been put through to the entire ship."  I close my eyes, wondering if the entire ship heard us, or if it was only the bridge crew.  I open my eyes and look up to my first officer.  Chakotay smiles shyly, then lifts a hand to tug on his ear, embarrassed.  Suddenly I don't care who heard.

"This is the Captain," I smile, my eyes linked to the ones that belong to the man I love.  "The Commander and I have decided that it is in this ship's best interests that we maintain crew morale."  I pause:  "To that end, the Commander and I have decided to pursue a romantic relationship..."

I'm cut off by the crew.  They're cheering; clapping and shouting so fervently that I can even hear the bridge crew through the bulkhead.  I continue, and the crew manages to quiet itself a little:  "Thank you all for your concern and support, and we hope that this will benefit the entire crew in the long run."  I'm trying hard not to laugh as I see Chakotay's expression.  "That will be all:  Janeway out."  
   
   
   
(^  (@) (@)  ^)

   
   
   
I step onto the bridge, my skin still flushed but my mind already calm and collected as I rejoin the rest of the world.  Most of the bridge crew begins clapping again, and I can see that even Tuvok has stood, along with the rest of the officers who are showing their approval.  I hold up a hand to silence them, and they all return to their work.

Chakotay steps past me, returning to his seat, and we sit down in unison.  He smiles at me, a grin reminiscent of the ones he used to give freely, before he had lost hope of our ever being together.  I give him a small smile in return, then turn to face the viewscreen, ready to get back to business.

"Mr. Paris," the Lieutenant turns away from his console at my voice, fully facing me.

"Yes, ma'am?" he returns, a smile plastered onto his face.  I do not return the sentiment, but reply sternly:

"Report to Engineering tomorrow morning at 0600 hours."

"Captain?" his smile fades as his expression changes into one of confusion.

"Your wife has some plasma manifolds for you to scrub," I reply.  "You'll be spending the next two weeks performing important maintenance duty.  Oh, and the Doctor requested that you be assigned to Sickbay during that time as well, so you'll be pulling double shifts."

"Captain..."

"Don't ask why, Lieutenant," I interrupt him, pausing for effect:  "I think you know."  I break eye contact, my gaze turning to the viewscreen, as if I am dismissing him:  "Return to your duties, Mr. Paris."

Tom turns back to his console, and I can see that he still hasn't realized why he seems to have incurred the wrath of Janeway.  I allow myself to smile, but my captain's voice remains in place as I continue:  "By the way, Lieutenant, I expect you to return the recording you made this morning when you hacked into the ready room security systems."

He turns back to me in surprise, but my smile has already been replaced by a look of stern reproach so that he cannot see my barely contained glee.  "You will turn all of the data over to Commander Chakotay without making any copies, have I made myself clear?" I finish.  He nods solemnly:

"Yes, Ma'am."  He turns back toward his console, but pauses halfway:  "How did you know, if you don't mind myself asking?"  I let him squirm for a few moments before answering.

"I'm the Captain," I finally respond.  "I know everything."  Tom stares, trying to figure out how serious I am, and I finally allow the corner of my mouth to lift, breaking into a smile.  He smiles back:

"Understood, Captain," Tom turns back to his duties, and I turn back to the viewscreen.  I watch the stars as they streak past, my thoughts resting on that recording and how much Chakotay will torment me with it at dinner tonight.  I can feel him reach over the console that is between us, his hand gently taking mine in his own.  I turn to my first officer, and return his gentle smile of joy.  Our fingers mesh together, and we turn back to the viewscreen, our hands still linked.  I still smile:  somehow, Earth doesn't seem quite so far away today.  I'm already halfway home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  The influence for "Peeping Tom, Shroy Tuvok" came from several places.  I had the idea for Janeway and Chakotay's kiss in the final scene in mind a long time before the rest of the story began to take shape, and i always knew that i would have to do a shuttle crash story, but what this story actually became stemmed from a lot of things.
> 
> I think that the idea of telling each part from a different crewmember's point of view came to me when i read the fanfic [A Perfect Moment](http://www.angelfire.com/id2/morgan/Perfect1.html) by Morgan.  It occurred to me while i was reading the story that each crewmember must have a unique viewpoint on the Captain and Commander's relationship, and i wondered what they feel about the two staying apart, what they would think if they finally got together.
> 
> I also always wondered just how good Tuvok's hearing is.  Tim Russ is a terrific actor, but there's a lot of Tuvok that we didn't get to see developed on the show.  He was always rather remote, and i wanted to take a look inside his head and give him the Vulcan equivalent to feelings, as non-emotional and logical as they were.  Lots of people seem to have trouble writing dialogue for him, but it's always come naturally for me.  It's like what Janeway said in "Tuvix:"  
> "I hear his voice when I read the words."
> 
> I originally intended this story to be longer, more cerebral, but i think that it turned out better with the lighter mood and the humor thrown in.  The story evolved as i wrote each part because i wrote Tom and Tuvok's point of view first, but i also knew what i wanted to write for Chakotay and Kathryn.  I had to fill in those gaps and figure out how to make it all flow together.  I also kept the parts short and to the point so the story would move quickly and because i thought that it would keep you, the reader, interested.
> 
> In conclusion, i would like to thank Morgan for writing "A Perfect Moment:"  your ending was better than the one in "Endgame," at least in my opinion.  I would also like to thank Joel Anderson, who compiled the Vulcan Dictionary that i downloaded, without which i would not have half of my title.  I'm sorry that i can't add more of an acknowledgment as i cannot find a link to said dictionary anymore.
> 
> Yet another A/N:  I wrote this to play around with different voices and experiment.  I'm perfectly aware (now) that it's not all written in third person past tense...  I used to struggle with that quite a bit because TV isn't in past tense, we watch it all unfold right before us.  I know writing fiction in first person is a generally a no-no as well.  And i know that this characterization is a little over the top, that's partially done for humor.  I'm sorry if it annoys you, but i was still finding my voice when i wrote this series.  It's hard to believe that it's been sixteen years since i wrote this.


End file.
